


Red Stars live the longest

by sharcastic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 12:19:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10277795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharcastic/pseuds/sharcastic
Summary: Stiles brandishes the pen inches away from her eyes, making her squint again."If you do something for me, I'll give it back to you""Really, Stiles?""I have the pen, I've got the power. Lydia, I dare you. This is the daring pen.""Says who?""Says me! Catch up.""This is nonsense. What do you dare me to?"Written before S6Inspired by the movie "Love me if you dare" LOOKING FOR A BETA READER!





	

The brain can’t feel pain, it’s a scientific fact. If you think it’s hurting, it’s only due to the pressure on the tissues around it. Lydia knows that very well. Then why is she feeling like every element in her cranium is shattering to pieces, hurting her mind, body and soul, denying all biological rules in this world? Maybe the hole in her head hasn’t healed after all and she has to live with the pain for the rest of her life.  
Or it’s because everything since Eichen house has been falling apart. Especially with everyone she cares about.  
The pack is not the same anymore and never will be.  
They used to be a body. A whole body where each organ matters and has a specific use. And this hurts that she can still feel this twinge in her chest thinking that, not so long ago, their skin, the person who held them together and made them work perfectly, was gone forever. And suddenly, without any more warning than this incessant and deafening scream which took off all of her sanity, her best friend disappeared from her life. All she left is a big giant hole in Lydia’s life and between pack’s members.  
Something between them is lost, broken, and it’s not only the sleep that Lydia is lacking during those long and lonely nights where she just lies in the dark, staring at the phosphorescent stars she stuck on the ceiling when she was young and she has never remembered to remove. And she imagines they’re real and tries to calculate how old they could be by their brightness. She waits until the light is printed onto her retina, intoxicated by the flashy and frenetic colors, almost letting her forget every aching inch of her body and soul. It never lets her.  
It’s something else. It’s the fact that Kira’s gone too. She was their ray of sunshine and their heart, she was able to warm every cold thought just by her sparkling eyes when she smiled. After Allison’s death, Kira was the joy they lacked. More than her absence, it’s the look in Scott’s eyes that makes Lydia’s chest hurt again. She knows he missed her a lot even if he doesn’t talk about it. Maybe he has said something to Stiles, but she wouldn’t know. Stiles is far away from her since they rescued her from Eichen house (when is he not though, when it seems like the ideal distance to be from him is no distance at all for Lydia now?). Stiles can’t even look her in the eyes, probably for fear that he would see in them all of the cracks this place craved into her. However, this is nothing but an assumption, because Stiles and Lydia haven’t really talked since then. Lydia wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but maybe, only maybe, this is the reason something has been missing during her sleepless nights (this is the reason).  
It’s also the way Stiles acts around her, like she is going to explode at any moment. Sometimes she misses the way he looked at her few years ago, like she meant the world to him. When she thinks about it, she regrets not having said something when he became the world to her. But then his eyes turned toward another girl, and she knew she was coming too late and she had to move on. She never had, and now she’s stuck with these too big feelings for her tiny self. 

But that day, it changes. Lydia doesn’t know how this is happening, but for the first time since a long time, everything seems going back to normal. Actually, she knows exactly how this is happening, but everything is going out of hand so rapidly, as always when it comes to Stiles Stilinski (well, except for one thing, but that’s another story). She is sharing her notes to Scott and Stiles in the library, because they’re incapable of taking their own in class, too occupied plotting the next prank on Coach or, in other cases, how to defeat the new big villain in Beacon Hills.  
“Stiles,” she says on an exasperate tone she reserves only for him, “give me back that damn highlighter and I swear to God, if you keep on chewing it, I’ll make you swallow it.”  
“You wouldn’t!” He replies, offended, throwing the pen out of his mouth to point its damp end towards her. “You know occupying my mouth helps me concentrate” (Scott glances at him with teasing eyes. Stiles ignores him). “And besides, if you make me swallow it, you wouldn’t be able to have it back. So, make up your mind.”  
And with those words, he puts the highlighter back in his mouth and resumed reading Lydia’s notes. She sighs, trying to calm down. She doesn’t really know if the reason she has to calm down is because this boy has the capacity of getting on her nerves by doing as simple things as chewing her pen, or because she can’t bear the fact that she’s not able to keep her eyes away from his mouth which is absentmindedly making the highlighter turns slowly between his teeth and soft tongue.  
With extra willing, she manages to look up into his eyes. She’s a lost cause when it comes to Stiles, and she hates it.  
“Come on, Stiles, give it back, you can have another one.”  
“But I want this one.”  
“What kind of a child are you? Why do you want this one anyway?”  
“Well, I already told you,” He says, shrugging. “Blue’s just pretty”  
“Well, blue is for AP biology in my book, so there’s no competition here”  
“Actually, there is, Lydia, are you trying to refrain my artistic stimulus?”  
“Hmm,” Scott finally decides to take part of the argument, “Lydia, you can have mine if you like, you don’t want to have yours anyway, it’s full of Stiles’ saliva.”  
“Good point, Scotty, good point.”  
Lydia crossed her arms across her chest, eyeing at Stiles. Finally, he looks up to see her disapproving gaze.  
“You know you’re really not productive guys,” says Scott, “we should study for this exam”  
“Tell that to her, she’s the one preventing me fr…”  
“Preventing you? I…”  
“Ok, enough!” Scott raises his voice, resulting in several irritated students looking at him. “Ok,” he starts again in a lower voice, “let’s settle this. Stiles, give it back please.”  
His best friend seems to consider this option for a moment and Lydia really thinks that she has won. But then: “No. I like it. Use the pink one, Lydia. It suits you. And this is your favorite color, am I right?”  
Lydia squints at him.  
“You know what? As I feel magnanimous today, I’ll give you a chance to have it back.”  
“Oh, really, Stiles? That’s so generous of you.”  
“I know, what can I say, I’m an altruistic person. But.”  
“But?” she raises her eyebrows.  
Stiles stops for a moment, Scott and Lydia waiting on him. After a long stare at Lydia with inscrutable expression on his face, he turns his head around to every corner of the room as if he is looking for something, the highlighter still in his mouth.  
“What?” Lydia is starting to lose patience.  
Stiles brandishes the pen inches away from her eyes, making her squint again.  
“If you do something for me, I’ll give it back to you”  
“Really, Stiles?”  
“I have the pen, I’ve got the power. Lydia, I dare you. This is the daring pen.”  
“Says who?”  
“Says me! Catch up.”  
“This is nonsense. What do you dare me to?”  
“To go making one of these poor kids stressed out by final exams laugh.”  
“Why would you want me to do something as stupid?”  
“I told you, I’m a generous person, I’m giving you and one lucky student the opportunity to have a break.”  
Lydia sighs in exasperation and all at once reaches out one hand toward her pen to grab it, but Stiles is faster and pulls his own back. In an exclamation of victory, he raises the precious object in the air like a trophy.  
“Are you telling me you’re unable to do as simple social task as this one? You’re Lydia Martin.”  
Well, Stiles knows exactly how to handle things with Lydia, that’s for sure. Not wanting to let her pride being crushed, Lydia stands up, determined to take up the challenge. If only it could erase that stupid smile on Stiles’ face, it would already be a winning. She flips back her long hair as she turns and walks straight towards the closest boy from them. He is sitting at a table, reading what looks like a history book, his head in his hands like he was in the depths of despair.  
Lydia puts her hand on the edges of the table, bending over it to look closer to him. She can’t help but think he has quite pretty hazel brown eyes when he notices her.  
Stiles is right, she knows how to do this, it’s very simple for her. She’s Lydia Martin and being the centre of attention was a big part of her life back when Beacon Hills was just a boring town. She uselessly moves her hair, its floral smell flying to him. One slightly touch on his arms and few futile words later, he is laughing. It’s this kind of small and awkward laugh that boys often have when they speak to her and which is both flattering and embarrassing at the same time. It’s been a long time since she hasn’t heard it and it makes her feel uncomfortable. Hating Stiles even more, she quickly says goodbye to the boy who seems really kind after all, and goes back to Scott and Stiles. She’s not letting them see her confusion and puts a victorious smile on her face.  
“See?” she says while she sits down. “Now, give it back to me.”  
It seems that all the blood in Stiles’ face has disappeared. He finally hands her the pen, mouth wide open. She grabs it and begins to gather her stuff.  
“And now I’m late to go to class.”  
She is on her way to leave when Stiles call her:  
“Since you’ll be in class, can I borrow your blue highlighter?”  
“And have the daring pen? No way, you’ll have to take a challenge up for that.”  
And with these words, she turns around, her arms full of books, and walks away, leaving a really puzzled Stiles. 

Lydia’s in class when it happens the next day. She’s drawing landscapes on her notebook while listening absentmindedly to her English teacher explaining notions she has known since middle school when the static sound characteristic of the school megaphone is heard. A small smile appears on Lydia’s lips, she’s already anticipating the joy she is going to feel hearing what’s going to happen next.  
Stiles clears his throat through the microphone, making everyone in Lydia’s classroom turn their head. Even the teacher stops to talk to listen, probably thinking that important information is going to be released.  
But instead, Stiles says in a forced high pitched voice: “Mommy, do you know what’s a werewolf?”  
And then, with lower voice which is closer to his own: “- Don’t worry about this and comb your face”  
There are some tiny laughs in the room but most of the students gives consternate looks to each other. Lydia keeps smiling, almost happy he can’t make a joke but also amazed to what extend he is willing to go to have a freaking pen.  
She’s still enjoying her victory when Stiles continues: “We can all thank Lydia Martin for this brilliant idea – as she is always. Brilliant, I mean.”  
Lydia stops smiling instantly when she hears it. People stare at her, maybe waiting for some answers from her. She is going to kill him. Or, to be fairer, she is going to make him pay when she’ll have the highlighter back. 

They keep on daring each other for the rest of the week, at any time and in any place they can meet. That’s how Lydia ended up face covered in food, one night at Scott’s house during a pack meeting; she also has to dive in the swimming pool with her clothes on, just after she dared Stiles drink a disgusting cocktail made of all sauces she could find. Their life has thus turned into an unpredictable experience of every minute. They wake up in the morning not knowing that three hours later, Stiles would be in the restroom trying to wax one of his legs (“your dares are just cruel, Lydia!”), or putting his boxers over his pants and Lydia would have to let Stiles do her hair (Lydia knows he has always dreamt of it without having the guts to ask for it by the way he touches them) and leave it the way it is for the rest of the day and same goes with nails (Lydia begins to wonder if Stiles does not enjoy these things now). Actually, Stiles’ dares are not that difficult to achieve, she would have to do ballet moves during lunch or he would only ask for some answers during study sessions. Once, he asks her for a massage but she snaps at him to go to hell, so he quickly changes his mind and dares her to give him her phone so he can write a Facebook status (this is something really unoriginal such as how great he is and how in love she is with him). She shrugs – she doesn’t even go that much on Facebook since they have to beat evil out of Beacon Hills – and dares him back to shut his mouth for one hour. This is arguably the hardest dare Lydia has given him.  
Sometimes they try to make Scott play, but he keeps saying it’s their game. Lydia doesn’t really understand what it means and she only wants to make him smile again. This game makes her smile. For the first time in so long, Stiles speak and laugh with her. Suddenly, it feels like she is the most important thing in his life, even if it’s for a stupid game. She doesn’t want it to stop. She likes the way the corners of his eyes wrinkles when he giggles at one of the dare she achieve, his eyes sparkles at her, the way his long fingers seem to linger as long as possible on her skin when he gives her the highlighter. She doesn’t know what to think; in fact, she doesn’t want to think, it feels so good to have Stiles back on her life again, like nothing has ever happened.  
Unfortunately, it has. 

At night, she dreams of his hands. This is not the first time, of course, but her dreams become more frequent and proportional to the time she spends with him during the day. They laugh and banter at school. It’s a whole other story when he invites himself into her unconscious mind.  
She doesn’t know how his soft touch along her body would affect her, how she would shiver when his lips would brush her neck, leaving the print of his breath on her skin, how her hips would react when he’d caress them and grab her thighs.  
She doesn’t know what his hands would do to her to make her lose her mind.  
But that’s the thing. She does. She does know too well when she wakes up in the middle of the night, sweat running along her back and with the feeling that her heart and brain have moved between her legs. 

“Rough night?”  
Lydia jumps with surprise at Stiles’ question.  
“I couldn’t sleep” she answers, trying hard not to look down at his hands. If he knew where they were last night…  
Malia walks toward them, looking carefree as always.  
“Hi. Wanna drink?”  
“Yes, thank you” Lydia says, too happy to have an excuse to get away from Stiles’ hand.  
She follows Malia through Scott house, who has invited once again the pack to have a party. Lydia suspects him to want to keep his mind busy and to not think about Kira. Stiles, Malia, Liam, Mason, Hayden and Lydia are glad to help, even if they know it’s not the solution and that someday, the reality will hit him hard. But they’re being good friends and smile, talk and laugh during these long parties.  
“Where’s Scott?” asks Lydia.  
Malia and Scott have been getting closer this past month, most likely because they’ve been feeling the same pain toward Kira’s leaving.  
“Definitely mourning on the couch” She pointed with her chin a really depressed Scott, indeed slumped on the couch, a beer in hands.  
“Should we remind him that he can’t get drunk?”  
“Naw, let’s not spoil his illusions. What do you want?”  
“Anything strong.”  
“Wow, Lydia Martin wants to let herself go tonight?”  
“You have no idea what you’re talking about”  
Malia laughs while grabbing the bottle of vodka on the kitchen table. Lydia watches her take a glass and mixes liquids like she has done it her whole life. It’s amazing how she get used to everything in such a short period of time. Lydia isn’t able to get used to anything.  
“Try this.” Malia gives her the glass.  
“Oh, gosh, perfect” Lydia chocks after the first mouthful.  
Malia gently pats her back.  
“Is this a Stiles’ dare again?”  
Lydia nearly spits her drink this time.  
“Wh… what? No!”  
“You two seem to have fun with this game.”  
“Yeah…”  
“It’s ok, you know?” states Malia, shrugging.  
“What?”  
“You want to date him, go ahead.”  
With these words, Malia walks away, heading towards Scott, still deeply sitting on the couch.  
Damn. Is she that obvious? Well, at least she is not to Stiles. Or he just doesn’t care, which would be worse. At this thought, she drink down her drink in one go. It has been a while since she hasn’t been drunk and if she wants to have her daring pen back, it would be easier (everyone is its most daring self drunk, right?).  
Quickly as the time goes by, two groups emerge: the supernatural creatures who can’t get drunk are playing quietly and quite gloomily card games in a corner while Lydia, Mason and Stiles who have decided to do drinking games. After several shots and a lot of babblings with which objects they should have in their suitcase, they agree to join the others.  
Lydia collapses on the couch that Scott has still not left, beside her friend. She puts her head on his shoulder, guessing with her drunk self that it’ll comfort him. Stiles sits on the other side of Scott.  
“How is it going, Scotty Scott? You shouldn’t be that depressed, you know. Werewolf’s skin tends to wrinkle more easily. I read it on the Internet.”  
“You really search things about werewolves’ skin on the Internet, Stiles?”  
“What? You’re my best friend, I worry about how you’ll grow old and how you’ll look when I’ll take you for a walk.”  
“I hope you’ll have better company than mine to go for a walk when you’re old.” Scott replies and looks at Lydia.  
She looks back with interrogatory eyes, not really following what he means because alcohol blocks all senses in her.  
“Lydia,” Stiles call out, “I dare you to walk in a park with me.”  
“That’s not even what I meant” Scott argues.  
“That’s not even a dare” add Lydia to the argument.  
“Come on, it’ll be easy for you to have the daring stick!”  
“Is this a stick now? Have some respect!”  
“Guys, stop it, this is tiring,” Scott says.  
Suddenly, he stands up and goes without a word. Stiles and Lydia look at each other for a moment, dumbstruck.  
Lydia, though, forgets quickly and lifts her frozen feet up to the couch and slides them under Stiles’ butt. He blinks twice at her, highlighter still in his hand.  
“Why don’t you sleep, Lydia?”  
Ok, this came out of nowhere. Actually, she didn’t think he remembered or even noticed what she said earlier. But he apparently does, and now he seems to wait for an answer, and a serious one, judging by his frowning expression.  
What he doesn’t know, is that she can’t give him what he is waiting for. Even soaked with alcohol, this is beyond her. She can’t describe, even to Stiles, the night terrors, fears and tears that prevent her from diving into a whole world of the worst nightmares. So she goes with “Because I’m a genius, I don’t need to sleep”  
It doesn’t work. He’s still quiet in front of her, staring at her as if he is searching for some cracks in her expression that could give her away. He knows. How could she have doubted that? It’s been a while since they’re not only friends anymore. They’re something, something more.  
He begins to softly stroke her bare calf next to him with the pen. From time to time, she can feel for a second a lightning of warm touch when his palm inadvertently brushes her skin. After the fifth time, she wonders if it’s inadvertent, but she closes her eyes and rests her head back, not wanting him to stop these sweet and slow moves.  
“Lydia…”  
His voice is low and kind. She opens her eyes to another light touch on her leg that is clearly intended this time.  
“I dare you to tell me why you can’t sleep”  
In the dim light of the room, his face is half hidden by shadows, but she can still make out this characteristic nose that she loves, some of his moles she likes to link in every combination possible to create as many geometric figures as she can when he is not looking, and more than anything, his hazel damp eyes, glittering toward her.  
“That’s still not a dare,” she finally says. “That’s a truth. I’m not playing truth.”  
“Then I dare you to answer me.”  
“I’m not taking your dare. Find something else.” She snaps at him.  
She didn’t mean to. But she is angry. Angry because she can’t tell him, even after getting closer again, how she feels. Angry that after Eichen he didn’t take the chance to make the first move when she did everything to make him understand. That’s not fair to her or to him.  
She notices after several second that his hand has left her calf.  
“Like what, Lydia? Do you want me to tell you to do a silly dance, wear your bra over your clothes, do a prank call or make out with the first person you’ll meet? Hm? Which one you’ll choose?”  
Lydia pulls her feet out, making Stiles lower on the couch on one go.  
“You mean, like you did the last one?”  
This time, she has taken him by surprise; so he keeps sitting here, frozen by the way she has talked and confused by her words.  
“Don’t dare me to tell you something again, Stiles.”  
It seems like her words cut irrevocably something between them; Stiles’ face closes immediately, abruptly erasing the few remains of the link they had and that they tried so hard to maintain. More than anything, the pain on his face makes Lydia instantly regrets her words. But she meant them. And even if it hurts like hell, even if losing him means losing her sanity, she needs him to understand.  
So she waits, her stomach narrowing a bit more every second Stiles doesn’t speak to her.  
He doesn’t.  
She ducks her head, pushes back her tears. And Stiles still says nothing, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, next to Lydia’s ankle he stroke minutes ago.  
They stay there for a moment, surrounding by the void of their mind, incapable of finding something to say.  
Then, resigned that Stiles is not going to do anything to reassure her, tell her that it’s ok, that she can always rely on him and still be his whole world like it used to be, like they were not broken, Lydia turns and walks away, leaving him the pieces of her heart that fell where he broke her.

They don’t talk anymore. Neither at school nor at pack meetings, which makes things awkward for everyone. Lydia can’t stop debating with herself on which one of them is wrong. And if neither of them is, is it worth the try?  
How did things turn out this way?  
She thought that all this bullshit game was making it right, was good for them. She was wrong. It was all an act. They pretended that everything was fine again, that they could be together the same way as before. They blindfolded themselves.  
Nothing’s fine and she still misses him so much it aches to her bones.  
Watching him by far doing his cute weird moves isn’t enough. She doesn’t know why (she knows why, she just doesn’t want to think about it), but his hands have disappeared from her dreams. Actually, she’s not having dreams at all anymore. Between the filthy walls of Eichen house she can’t get out of her head, the vision of broken Stiles has been added to Allison’s livid face, not allowing her to fall asleep.  
The stars on her ceiling still look dull and small. Probably really old (she gave up calculating).

“How are you, Lydia?”  
Scott surprises her while she looks for some textbooks in her locker.  
“Great, as always”  
She doesn’t even try to down her sarcastic tone. What’s the point, anyway? Scott knows how she feels. Beyond his super werewolf powers and his ability to smell emotions, he knows her too well.  
And Stiles.  
“Look, whatever Stiles said to you, he didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that, right? Please, just talk to him. Because he has been crushing at my place since then and eaten all sweet food we have. So, please? For the sake of my mother’s grocery budget?”  
Lydia smiles.  
“Well, maybe he should talk to me instead of being a child.”  
“Then show him you’re not one. Lydia, I know that you have a lot going on. I know nobody can understand what you’re going through, and trust me, it literally kills me. I’d like to do something, but I can’t. You know I can’t.”  
Lydia look at the floor as her heart skips a beat. She’s not used to Scott being so open. An odd wave of heat passes through her chest.  
Scott gets closer, so he can lower his voice.  
“But he can. Can’t he?”  
Lydia’s cheeks begin to burn. Taking a deep breath hoping the redness will go away, she looks up to him.  
He smiles at her.  
“I dare you to make the first move, Lydia. As a friend.” 

She’s laying on her side, her sheet wrapped around one of her leg, covering half of her body because she has not decided if she’s cold or hot yet. There’s other stuff she hasn’t decided yet, but she’s trying not to think about it. Which is hard, due to her incapacity to fall asleep. Her brain can’t stop rambling.  
The bedside table is in front of her, she can see her lamp horizontally standing from her position. She likes to observe things while she’s laying, everything appears in a new angle and form. It helps thinking a lot. She remembers doing this for hours when her life wasn’t such a mess. Maybe she should have done this more often since she became that thing. How useless is that, screaming when someone’s about to die?  
Scott would argue that everyone matters and is important. But sometimes she can’t help but wonder. Wonder if she’s a good ally to Scott. A good friend.  
Scott.  
Her eyes slide from the lamp to her phone, its LED is still desperately off.  
All of the sudden, as if her body got tired of her mind and decided to move without permission, she sits up and seizes her phone.  
It’s 2am, and tomorrow is a school day, but her fingers make their way to the contact folder, and then with frenetic moves, slide down to “s”. Of course they stop under Stiles’ name.  
She hesitates for one minute. He’s most likely asleep by now, but she knows his phone is always on. All of the pack’s phones are on all day and all night. That’s the first rule when you can be eaten by werewolves or wendigoes in your sleep.  
She doesn’t want to wake him up (she wants to).  
One millisecond later, before she can realize what she’s doing, she hears the slow and long tone on the other side of the line, her heart in her throat and her cheeks about to burn.  
He picks up after the forth tone.  
“Lydia? You ok?”  
Even with his voice barely recognizable through the raspiness, her stomach delightedly twists when she hears it. He was definitely asleep. She’s jealous.  
“Lydia? Answer me.”  
His voice is back to normal, and has a new worried tone. She realizes she has been silent for too long for this not to be suspicious.  
“Hm. I’m fine.”  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing’s wrong.”  
“Lydia,” he gently mocks, “you’re calling me in the middle of the night just to tell me you’re fine?”  
She pauses again. She feels stupid. She doesn’t know what to tell him. Well, she actually knows what she wants to tell him, but she can’t make herself to tell him. She’s such a coward.  
“Why don’t you speak to me?”  
“I want my highlighter back.”  
It’s his turn to shut up. Her words have obviously taken him aback.  
“Oh,” he says, sounding disappointed. “Ok, no problem, I’ll bring it tomorrow at sch…”  
“No. I want it now.”  
“Er, but it’s…”  
“Stiles,” she interrupts, “please.”  
I want you to come. I want you to be with me right now.  
She doesn’t say it. But it’s here, through these empty words.  
She knows that’s unfair, but she’s hoping he can read them. 

He can.  
Less than half an hour later, her phone buzzes, notifying her that he’s downstairs, asking her to open the door. Waiting for his message is just an act, she’s already noticed the blue jeep outside.  
They silently make their way to her bedroom, trying not to wake her mom up.  
Though it’s quite unlikely, since they don’t speak, even when they’re in her room. Lydia sits on her bed, looking at everywhere but Stiles. He stands there, unable to accommodate to the silence.  
It’s odd and awkward and hurtful, them being so close and still being so far away.  
Silence grows, reaching Lydia’s throat. It’s the only thing she can feel, this big tight lump eating all of her words and thus the solution to make things right.  
“Here is it.” Stiles finally declare in a low voice.  
He’s handing the blue highlighter, holding it by its far end, as if he’s giving her the opportunity not to touch him. She winces.  
“I can’t have it like this. You have to dare me.”  
“No, I don’t. You were right. Everything shouldn’t be about this stupid game.”  
She doesn’t know why, maybe it’s the expression on his face, but she’s suddenly afraid that he would give back her pen and without any warning, would leave and walk away from her.  
“Stiles,” her voice has something urgent in its tone. “Give me a dare.”  
He looks at her, confused.  
“Please.”  
“Lydia…”  
He rubs the back of his neck and takes a step closer to her. He’s so tall and broad, standing in front of her, but his eyes has the most vulnerable shade.  
“Why did you call me?”  
“Is this your dare for me?”  
“Why weren’t you asleep?”  
She can’t look at his too intense dark eyes anymore, shifting for a safer spot on the ground.  
Then she feels the soft touch of his hand on her cheek, suggesting her to look back at him. His skin against hers immediately soothes her.  
“Lydia, I dare you to sleep.”  
“I can’t.” She whispers.  
He gets closer, making her feel more tiny if that’s possible. His body overlooks hers in a comforting way. She could stay here forever, his hand on her cheek and his brown eyes shielding her.  
“Can you help me?”  
It’s like she gave him permission. Or something that makes him bend towards her, put his hands on the back of her neck and kiss her. His lips are soft and tender and have the power to make her melt. She gently sucks his smooth bottom lip, her tongue slowly follows its perfect curve.  
He deepens their kiss, making her lay down on her bed, his body over hers. Her hands can finally explore his shoulder, his neck, his hair. Every part of them feels so good under her fingers.  
But eventually, he breaks the kiss to tell her:  
“Does it help?”  
Lydia can’t help but laugh.  
“Do I look asleep to you?”  
She wants to kiss him again, but he doesn’t seem to agree.  
“You have to sleep, Lydia.”  
Lydia feels her body being lifted in the air before Stiles puts her under her cover.  
“Did you just tuck me in bed?”  
Stiles laugh, getting on his feet.  
“No!” Lydia protests. “Stay.”  
He doesn’t make her say twice; quickly Lydia feels his body behind hers when he slides under the sheets behind her, his arms grabbing her in a tight embrace. His hands cover her whole belly. She slowly puts hers over them and closes her eyes when his head lays on her neck, below her left ear. The warm of his breath affects her mind in a way she couldn’t imagine.  
And in the darkness of the room, right next to her hear, Stiles whispers:  
“I’m sorry, Lydia.”  
She doesn’t respond, numb by his presence, wrapped in his warmth, he’s so close to her. She’s almost asleep.  
“I just wanted to make you feel better. I thought that making you do all those stupid things will make you think about something else, will make you laugh.”  
“It did.” Her voice is nearly inaudible.  
He kisses her neck, waking her up a little by the electric current it creates under her skin.  
“Lydia?”  
“Hm?”  
“Why did you keep these phosphorescent stars?”  
“I’m trying to guess their age.”  
“You can’t. They say stars we can see from here are already dead.”  
“No, they’re not.”  
She feels him shrug behind her.  
“They also say that you can say their age by their color. The red ones are the smallest but they live the longest.”  
His hold lulls her and she tries to squeeze even more against him, not wanting to let any space between them.  
“Lydia?”  
“What again?”  
“I love you.”  
She smiles as her heart explodes. She hopes he can’t feel the beating through her chest but she doubts it.  
“I know.”  
She’s not surprise when he recognizes the Star Wars reference, only made for him, and finishing waking her up by screaming in her hear:  
“This is the most beautiful thing I ever been told!”

His hands are warmer than in her dreams.


End file.
